Hannibal's new game
by fireandice
Summary: Set after the end of the book/movie. Hannibal calls on Clarice once again.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. It's all for fun.  
****This takes place after the events on the Chesapeake. It does not follow cannon, but incorporates many elements of cannon. Enjoy.*******  
  
  
  
"The committee finds that Clarice M. Starling is to be acquitted of all charges. And Mrs. Starling is to be reinstated in full."  
  
As Clarice stood in front of the committee, she flashed a slight smile and then turned to leave the room. Walking out she wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad. The one thing she had swore to uphold, to protect was giving her another chance.  
  
Another chance. it was THEM who had caused her such confusion, heartache, and tribulations. It was THEM who had caused her so many sleepless nights. It was THEM who had placed her in the open as bait, let her practically be at the mercy of a monster and his twisted head games.  
  
Nonetheless, Clarice was relieved to know she was going back to her life at the FBI. Despite its faults, the FBI would always be a part of her, no matter what happened. Striving to be at the pinnacle of the bureau her whole life was a dream not easily relinquished.  
  
The monster. Everyone labeled him a monster. True, Clarice, for the briefest of moments, had labeled him as such, even believed them. Now, after all this time, she could never think him a monster again. After the incident on the Chesapeake, she was not exactly sure just what he is, but a monster, he's definatly not.  
  
Krendler. She hasn't given him much thought since his demise. At the time she didn't want him to suffer the fate he did, but later came to appreciate what Lecter had done for her. Monster. Krendler had been the only monster. Were it not for him, she would have never been in such a mess. It was his fault she now looked at the system of the FBI with such contempt.  
  
Sitting on the terrace, somewhere south of Paris, Hannibal Lecter allowed the moonlight to soak into his skin. Sipping the recently cooled wine, he gazed into the moons enigmatic halo. This had been the first time in over half an hour that his gaze had moved from the paper in his left hand. Had you been sitting next to him three minutes ago, you would have seen his right hand massaging the paper. For this was no ordinary paper. It had been published and given form by the National Tattler. The paper in question held none other than Clarice Starling's picture on the front.  
  
Had you been in Hannibal Lecter's mind three minutes ago, you would have been able to feel the warmth of human skin, to see rosyness pushed to its surface, to smell the extravagant odors, to taste the insatiable salt.  
  
These feelings had proved to intense even for Lecter as his gaze had to be diverted elsewhere before he lost total control. It had not been very long since he had last been with his Clarice. Still, every moment away her seemed an eternity of damnation and pure hell. Even at the moment he could fell the flames closing in around him as a sweat broke on his brow. If you were to look into his eyes you would most definatly see the aura of the fire's amber glow shinning from deep within.  
  
  
It had been a six month vacation for Clarice. Six months had passed since the night that had marked one of the biggest turning points in her life and that would forever be etched into her memory. Now that she had her life back, Clarice thought that nothing would stand in her way. Especially now that Krendler was gone. He would no longer be able to drip that poison into her file anymore. Just one "gift" from Lecter that would keep on giving.  
  
Returning to the FBI was not as easy for Clarice as it was for Lecter to split Krendler's head open like a cantaloupe. The bureau had earned a different respect from her. Not, though, for its honor and tradition and prestige, but merely a respect for its ability to take something so pure and turn it into scrap metal. The unharnessed power was enough to destroy mere mortals; only titans could survive.  
  
Despite these intense feelings, Clarice knew the FBI was her life. Despite the power hungry egomaniacs, Clarice would strive to uphold something, anything as pure; to do something which not many before her had done: play the game within the rules because it was what she had sworn to do. There was just one problem. She was going back to the FBI to be put back into a position that had caused her so much ridicule. She was going back to the Lecter case. With Lecter at large, and a fresh trail behind him, it was only logical to put the bureau's ace on the case. Had it not been for the Lecter case, Clarice would have not entered her job with such trepidation.  
  
Yet this time, she let it be known there would be no bullshit. No more placing her out on the end of the pole as bait. No more sneaking around, especially in her mail. She had never lied before, never deprived them of anything she knew or had of Lecter. Even in her most embarrassing element on the case she had remained truthful. What would she have to lie about now? Clarice's trepidation in part came from going back on Lecter's trail. In part, also it came from a simple parcel in the mail.  
  
The next morning, Clarice's doorbell rang promptly at nine a.m. Pissed and stumbling out of bed, she looked at the clock and became more furious as she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep in as she had planned on this Saturday. Aggravation and anger piled onto each other as she opened the door to find no one there. As Clarice was turning to close the door and go inside, she noticed it. "It" was a brown cardboard box a little bit larger than a shoe box. Carrying the box inside, Clarice placed it on the coffee table, grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and sat down in her chair in front of the package. Sitting there for two minutes, she looked the box over completely. The only thing on the outside was a sticker that had her mailing address and named printed on the front by a computer. The box weighed no more than five pounds. She slipped the knife around the brown tape and pulled the packaging paper from the box only to find more tape. For a moment Clarice caught the faint scent of Evian skin cream and Le Air de Temps but then dismissed it. In all actuality it should have sent off a thousand mental alarms. It was when the final tape had been cut and the lid removed that the alarms began to ring. Looking inside the box, she found in the middle, a bottle of Chateau de Yuquem, vintage to her birthyear that held an envelope on top of it. To each side of the wine bottle were small bottled of Evian skin cream and Le Air de Temps, the odor now more evident.  
  
Immediately, Clarice dropped the knife to the floor and sat back in her chair. Flashes of her memory, what memories she had, of that night at the Chesapeake began to run through her head as she learned back into the chair. In a moment the memory had subsided and Clarice found her evidence gloves. Carefully placing them on, she started with the envelope. Turning it over, she found her name in the familiar copperplate. Lifting the edge of the envelope, she pulled out it's contents and began to read.  
  
Dear Clarice  
  
Isn't life odd? Do you remember this smell? I know I do. And brave Clarice, do you know what it smells like? It smells of ambition. How had life been treating you since our last encounter? Not as well as you'd expect or like I suppose. Going back to the FBI isn't as grand as you'd hoped. At least now it should be a degree or two more bearable with that awful Paul Krendler gone. In retrospect, I know your grateful for the act.  
  
Now Clarice, look into the box. The two small bottles on the side are your ambition for life, for advancement. Remember that first day in the dungeon? I could smell the ambition radiating from your body long before you approached my cell. Take a moment, rub the lotion on your skin and spray the perfume on. Go on. This will put you back on track Clarice.  
  
There's one more thing, Special Agent Starling. Look back to the box and pick up the wine. Walk to the kitchen, grab two of your finest wine glasses. Open the bottle and fill each glass. Carry them back to the box, placing on in front of you, and the other across from you. Ever slowly drink of the glass. let the taste take you back to that night on the Chesapeake. Remember the night's events. You think I'm angry, yet I simply realize you weren't ready. Now Clarice, your back on track.  
  
Shall we play? Shall you join me in our little game? I think so. I know why your back and now you've something to chase after. Enjoy the wine and the fresh scent of blood.  
  
Sincerely,  
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.  
  
P.S. We never did discuss those lambs. I suppose they are still there. I would ask you to place an ad, yet you seem a little inept at doing so. I'm sure we'll get our chance to talk though.  
  
Ta Ta  
H  
  
Clarice finished reading and sat there sipping her wine, completely immersed in the doctor's words. Thinking about what she had said, Clarice saw his promise knowing Lecter was never one to break a promise. She wouldn't have to find him, he would find her.  
  
  
Washington DC city air. Lecter could never forget it's smell. Standing outside the DC airport, he took a moment to take in the surroundings and then flagged down a cab. Riding downtown, Lecter was on alert, but not alerted. There were obvious risks in coming to DC but the adrenaline rush was amazing. As was the fact that he could slip in undetected under the nose of the illustrious FBI.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Hannibal had settled into the best five-star hotel available. As the sun began to set, he finished his glass of wine. He would sleep well tonight knowing Clarice and himself could once again share the same stars.  
  
  
Clarice's next move was to pick up the phone where the instinctively placed a call the Jack Crawford. True, he was no longer affiliated with the bureau, but the wasn't the time for them. She needed advice and support.  
  
"Hello?"  
"Jack, you there?"  
"Starling? Starling! Of course I'm here. What's wrong?"  
"He's back"  
Crawford let out a sigh. he knew exactly who she ment and for the past six months had been praying he would never have to hear that again.  
  
"Well....How do you know?"  
"I don't know for sure, but.....I received a package. Wine, skin cream, perfume, and a letter. If he's not in the country, he will be soon. VERY soon."  
"Are you all right Clarice?"  
  
At the end of her last sentence, Jack noticed her breaths becoming ragged and could her hear voice trembling.  
  
"Yeah, I think so. Visions and memories."  
"I see. Well, you know your obligated to report this. Whenever you need someone...."  
"I know where to find you. Thanks Jack. You've always been there for me."  
"Starling.....there's not a day that passes that I don't feel bad about putting you up to this in the first place. If I had known what would happen after I first sent you to see him...," he was broke off my Clarice, "It's all right Jack. You couldn't have known, and there's certainly nothing we can do about it now."  
  
The two said their good-byes and hung up, Clarice feeling a little better, Crawford more worried for her.  
  
Clarice had decided to report the package on Monday when she returned to work. She walked into the kitchen and fixed a glass of scotch, quickly downing it. She made another and carried it and the remains of the bottle back to the couch where she laid down and drifted off the sleep. That night, the stars seemed to shine brighter than ever before.  
  
  
At fifteen minutes till six, Clarice was awakened by an abrupt noise, a distinctive ringing noise. Out of habit, she reached for the snooze button on the alarm clock, but after several repetitions, the noise was still there. Quickly sitting up, she turned on the lights and began to look around. It was then she found the source of the noise: a metallic colored cell phone, which was warm to the touch. She answered the phone but remained in silence, waiting for the other party to make the first move.  
  
"Good morning Clarice. I trust your sleep was not too peaceful. At least it looked as if those lambs had returned. Have they Clarice?"  
  
"Dr. Lecter?"  
  
"Come now Clarice, you owe me at least this bit of information."  
  
"Dr. Lecter...."  
  
" Please, let's not be tedious. I'd hoped this conversation would be more interesting and less Dick and Jane."  
  
"DR. LECTER!!!"  
  
"Why yes Clarice."  
  
"What is it you want from me?"  
  
"Oh simple polite conversation. Are you ready to go for a ride? They'll be a car out front in fifteen minutes. Can you be ready?"  
  
"Uh...yes, I think so."  
  
"Good, Oh and Clarice, there's no need to bring your gun. It will not be necessary. Neither are you handcuffs. But if you must."  
  
With that, Lecter hung up. Clarice's head began to spin. First of all, she began to think how Lecter had gotten into her house. Realizing that was no longer important, she began to question where this adventure would take her. She then began to process the necessary information for her trip.  
  
Fifteen minutes passed and Clarice heard the honking of the cabbie. As she was on her way out of the door, she grabbed her handcuffs. No matter what Lecter had said, she couldn't go unprepared. Besides, the handcuffs were easier to hide under her clothing.  
  
  
Meanwhile, at FBI headquarters, section chief Clint Pearson was made aware of her recent phone call and movements. No matter how faithful Clarice had proved to be, after the last contact made to her from Lecter, Pearson had discreetly taken matters into his own hands. He would not miss another opportunity to catch Lecter. As soon as Clarice had been announced as being back on the Lecter case, he had put phone taps into use, as well as twenty-four hour surveillance crews. Nothing would keep him from getting Lecter now.  
  
As soon as Clarice's cab pulled from her house, a maroon sedan filed in behind, making sure that it did not lose sight of the cab.  
  
  
The cab ride was only twenty-five minutes, yet to Clarice it was an eternity. During the ride she kept having flashbacks. First there were visions of her father, then to meetings with Lecter in the asylum and Memphis. Next her graduation from the academy, then the kiss in the Krendler's kitchen with her hair secured by the refrigerator door. She then saw her reinstatement proceedings and then more visions of the kiss. She could remember looking in his eyes right before he kissed her. It had been such a surprise at the moment, but was it really? Quickly she began to think about his letter of encouragement after the Drumgo raid and how he risked everything to come to her aid. Even now, he was risking his freedom. Even with the Buffalo Bill case he had helped her for no reason at all, as he had pushed other agents and professionals aside. But why? She shuddered at the though that he loved her. Perhaps though the shudders weren't from the fact that he could love her, but from the fact that somewhere inside her self, she could possibly love him too.  
  
As the car stopped, Clarice was brought back to reality, noticing the cabbie had taken her to the middle of nowhere. She was surrounded by a forrest of trees. When her phone rang, Clarice jumped so high that she hit her head on the roof of the car.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"I assume you've arrived. How's the view?"  
  
"The view, doctor? All I can see is trees."  
  
"Come now Clarice, not everything is as it seems."  
  
"Excuse me doctor, but what am I doing here?"  
  
"Look to your left. Do you see that trail?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Walk down it."  
  
All that Clarice heard next was the dead tone from the phone. The thought never occurred to her to tell the cabbie to take her back. This was her chance. The chance she had waited for over ten years, with the last one slipping away. Now was not the time to give up. She looked to the cabbie, "How much?"  
  
"No need," he replied in a heavy accent. "The gentleman's already paid in full, in advance."  
  
*Of course. He always thinks of everything. Why would he make me pay for a cab ride?*  
As she got out of the car, the cabbie sped off.  
  
  
The maroon sedan parked at some distance from where the cab had stopped. The figure sitting in the car watch Clarice as she descended down the trail, watched her flowing figure as her head turned every which way. trying to figure out where she was heading. The figure reached into the other seat, picked up a phone, and began to dial.  
  
The phone Clarice was clutching began to ring again. She had been walking for a good fifteen minutes at a brisk pace, still uncertain of where she was being led to. Certainly she didn't want to end up face to face with Lecter in the middle of nowhere. While she didn't doubt her instincts and abilities, she never doubted those of Lecter, as well as his brute physical strength. She knew she was no match for him.  
  
"Clarice."  
  
"Hello."  
  
"How is your walk Clarice? I hope it has given you time to clear your head."  
  
"Please doctor, do tell me where this is leading. I'm tiring of this game."  
  
"The hunt is almost over Clarice. Keep walking. Look ahead. Do you see a building?"  
  
Clarice walked another hundred yards to the top of a hill where looking down, she did indeed see a building. The building in question appeared to be an old warehouse, abandoned.  
  
"Go into the building. There may be something of interest to you there."  
  
Again, Clarice heard the dead-tone of the other end of the phone. As she walked in to the warehouse, she head a noise that was almost unidentifiable. Listening more closely, memories of her childhood were brought back to the surface as the noise was identified: the screaming of a lamb."  
  
  
The figure in the maroon sedan spoke into the receiver.  
  
"Clint Pearson?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Send them in. There's no visual of Lecter, but the voice on the other end is certainly his. She went into an abandoned warehouse."  
  
Two groups of SWAT team were dispatched to the location that was described to Pearson, unbeknownst to Lecter or Clarice.  
  
  
Clarice entered the building, which was sparsely lit by solitary overhead lamps. Lecter sat in an unlit area, watching Clarice as she explored the darkness. After several minutes she stopped under a lamp where she found a tape player that had been playing the scream of a lamb.  
  
"Dr. Lecter?"  
  
"Why hello Clarice. I thought you'd never call."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Tell me Clarice, tell me about the lamb."  
  
"But....Dr. Lecter..."  
  
"No Clarice. Tell me.," A brief pause, "Have they stopped?"   
"I...ugh....no..."  
  
"I thought as much. what makes them scream Clarice? How often do they come?"  
  
"They come when they want. I don't know why. Mostly when I start a new case or....."  
  
"Or what Clarice?"  
  
"Or when I'm put back on your trail."  
  
"I see. What do you suppose it is about me that makes them scream so?"  
  
"Perhaps....well, perhaps it's my conscience trying to tell my subconscience what it knows but refuses to acknowledge. Perhaps it's the agent in me making sure the woman never surfaces.......A safeguard."  
  
"A safeguard. Hmmmm... That's almost ironic. The pseudo you keeping the true you from showing when if you allowed the woman to be free, the lams would scream no more."  
  
At the moment, Lecter emerged from the darkness and into the edge of Clarice's circle of light. Clarice looked deeply in his eyes, seeing the pinwheels begin to turn and spark.  
  
"Doctor, do you know what you ask of me?"  
  
Lecter stared back at Clarice, deeply drinking of the pain and anguish reflection in her eyes.  
  
"Clarice, I'm meerly asking you to let go."  
  
Clarice had been so drawn into Lecter's eyes that she hadn't realized he had closed the distance between them. They now stood less than one foot apart.  
  
"Don't do it for me. Let go for yourself. The bureau is only weighing you down, Clarice. You're going to drown. Don't you understand?"   
Lecter had, by the end of his sentence, grabbed her by the arms. Clarice did not move, however. How he wanted to hold her in his arms, stroke her hair, and make her understand. How he wanted to kiss her, love her, be there for her, and feel her love in return. In some way, if he were to have her, it would be an equal to Dante. To at least have his Beatrice. He was lost in the moment.  
  
It was perhaps this momentary lapse that allowed the following to happen. Allowed that all too familiar sound to ring. In a second, the was brought back to reality. The feel of the cold steel on his wrist, the metallic clink of the clasps closing together. Looking into Lecter's eyes, Clarice did not see anger, rather disappointment.  
  
:"Clarice. This is really not necessary. Must we go through this again?"  
  
"Dr. Lecter, how can I uphold all that I've sworn to protect with you free? This is the only way."  
  
As she finished her reply, a voice rang over a megaphone, "This is the FBI. We have you completely surrounded. Come out with your hands up."  
  
Lecter let out a sigh, blinked hard once, and then said, " What you swore to protect was a myth. This institution that you thought was incorruptible, that you thought would always be there for you....." he broke off, looking away from her. As he looked into her eyes once more, he spoke with the most sincerity he ever had toward her.  
  
"Clarice, I've said this once before, but perhaps you weren't listening. All these things you look for the bureau to congratulate you on, your courage, ability, and incorruptibility, to see these things you need only look in a mirror."  
  
The words were hauntingly familiar for once and she finally took it for what it was: a compliment. As she let it sink in, she began to sob and immediately felt Lecter's arms around her in support. Lecter knew this moment could very well be their last.  
  
This moment of quiet could be viewed as the calm before the storm. For the next instant, the world came crashing down. The crew of about fifty SWAT team members came crashing throughout the doors.  
  
"Lecter, step away from Starling and place your hands behind our head."  
  
Lecter only let our another sigh and then whispered into Clarice's ear.  
  
"Do forgive me Clarice, but I can't go back. In time you'll understand."  
  
A quizzical look overcame her face as Hannibal bit down on her neck. He shook his head violently but hardly any blood was drawn from her. Clarice immediately understand what he was doing and began to wave her arms yelling no, but it was too late. The commanding officer of the SWAT team fired him nine millimeter at Lecter, releasing a bullet that bounced all through out his body.   
  
As he fell to the ground, Clarice fell with him, all the time looking into his eyes. A quiet overcame the room. Clarice touched his face.  
  
"Dr. Lecter?"  
  
"Clarice...." He let out a slight moan, "Never forget what I said."  
  
He felt death rushing for him. He knew it was now or never. Of course she knew he loved her, but he felt that he had to say it to her face.  
  
"Clarice, listen carefully.....I love you. I always have since that last meeting in Memphis. I don't expect you to understand."  
  
She stroked his face, "I don't expect you to understand what I'm about to say, as I don't either, but....I love you Hannibal."  
  
A look of shock overcame his face. Lecter began to feel some regret. Though he knew that even if she did love him, had he not taken the action he had, he would be locked up forever, and death was better than living in that cell, not matter if she loved him or not.  
  
His eyes began to gloss over and it all ended as quickly as it had occurred. The commanding officer rushed over to Clarice and helped her off of Lecter's body. Thankfully, they had not heard the last exchange between them.  
  
  
****Well, that's all for now folks, though I do have an alternate ending in the works, and if there is an interest in it, I will post it. Hope you enjoyed.*********  
  



End file.
